


(I love you, too)

by lightninginmyeyes



Category: Chef RPF
Genre: F/M, bon appétit, not my best work but here it is, this took a different turn than i intended lol, writer's block kicked my ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightninginmyeyes/pseuds/lightninginmyeyes
Summary: Brad x Claire Secret Santa gift to leias-rebelion (on tumblr). Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!Prompt: secret dating, getting caught.EDIT: This was written before BLM2020 and the downfall of the Bon Appetit it once was. I no longer support the channel anymore; I am leaving this up because it is a gift.
Relationships: Brad Leone & Claire Saffitz, Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	(I love you, too)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love the secret dating trope, but it ended up less saucy than I had originally intended. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~~Just a minor warning, I signed up for this before I started working, so I haven't had a chance to catch up on Brad x Claire content, and don't know how accurate some interactions are. Therefore, please forgive me.~~
> 
> New to this, so remember, this is fictional events, don't be a dick sharing this, yada yada.

When Claire tells Brad she’s not ready for everyone in the test kitchen to know about them, Brad respects that. And she’s relieved. Everyone in the kitchen is basically family now, but it took a long time to get there. She was the new girl, and though she didn’t have to work hard to earn their affection and acceptance, it felt like she had. 

Besides, the only person who knows is her mom, which was by accident, one night after half a glass of wine too many, and even then, she was horribly embarrassed after the fact.

It’s not that she doesn’t want people to know -- what would they do? Judge her? Ridicule her? Tease her? The thought might keep her up at night, heart and mind racing at the notion, but these people love her, accept her -- and they wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the internet trolls.

The real reason she’s kept this secret between her, Brad, and her cozy duvet… and her kitchen counter… and Brad’s shower… and--

The reason reason is she doesn’t know what “this” even is. Are they dating? Are they exclusive? Are they just living life to its fullest because tomorrow has no guarantee? Every time she even begins to articulate her fears, Brad’s mouth is on her neck, his hands splayed against her bare back, his beard scratching against her instantly blistering skin, and words? What are words, aside from incoherent, pleas, or commands?

In the beginning, in front of the camera, it appeared like he’s frustrated with her, and partially, that’s why it took her so long to admit she even had feelings for him. She didn’t want to be a nuisance to him. She’s come to learn he’s an excellent actor. In fact, for someone who lives his life so opening and unabashed, he is surprisingly good liar. When he spends the night, he’ll leave earlier, to arrive as if he’d come from his own place, and when Claire waltzes in with iced coffee in hand, he’d look up from whatever he’s doing to greet her with an “oh hey Claire, how’re ya doin’?” as if he hadn’t seen her bedhair or kissed her sleepy mouth. If they’d been invited to hang out with the rest of test kitchen, Brad’ll yawn the biggest yawn, stretch the biggest stretch, whine the whiniest whine about wanting to “hit the sack”, practically falling asleep in the elevator, just to avoid suspicion of spending the night with her.

Brad has been extremely patient with her. Claire’s grateful for it. The past few months have been a delicious secret between them, every moment a tasty memory that made her all hot and bothered just thinking about it. It’d been late summer when they’d fallen into the gray area of friendship and… whatever they are now. She leaned into him too much, he took her hand and wouldn’t let go. They’d shared their first kiss while waiting for the train. They’d first spent the night together after a movie marathon and too many beers. 

These one-offs should have been just that, but... neither wanted to stop. 

Especially as the leaves began to change, and then soon, fall, and the weather became optimal cozy, comfy, cuddle weather. Even on Day 3 Gourmet Makes days, when all she wanted to do was bury herself into her bed, sink into a thoughtless coma for weeks, she found solace in knowing she could curl into Brad’s warmth, press into Brad’s kiss, bathe in Brad’s adoration.

Of course, they hadn’t been without their close calls. After all, the kitchen, where weekly dinners were a thing, and vacationing together was another thing, and being a found family was their brand, knowing one another’s idiosyncrasies made sneaking increasing more difficult. Claire, who would test and try and tinker with her recipes, who would strive for the right taste, form, or texture, who couldn’t fathom “rest” in the face of a puzzle, would never leave early, eager to go home. Brad, who, quite oppositely, strongly believed in stepping away from his work, believed in re-evaluating and continuing the next day with a fresh mind, would never stay late into the night, analyzing his recipe further.

They’d almost been caught a few times, actually.

Once, in the elevator, as they’d promised to meet the rest of the group for drinks just up the street, they’d totally forgotten Andy, still in the building, working on his final draft of his recipe. On their way down from the kitchen, as the doors closed, they had entanged themselves with one another so desperately, they nearly missed the ding of the elevator coming to a stop. Andy, however, wasn’t looking as he walked onto the elevator, engrossed in the world of his cell phone. He missed Claire’s flushed face, and Brad’s ragged breathing.

Another time, just when they’d started to get comfortable being around each other, even after, maybe, having a quick make out session in the lobby bathroom when she’d claimed she was taking a walk to clear her head and he’d claim going out to get lunch, Brad had called her “babe” in front of Carla, and then proceeded to use the particular nickname with every female in the kitchen to cover up the fact. It was very “Friends” when Chandler had kissed Monica on the mouth good-bye, and then kissed Phoebe and Rachel to continue the facade. Claire doesn’t know if Carla thought anymore on it, but it haunted her for two weeks.

The most recent time, on a Sunday evening, they’d been leaving a clearly fancy, only-for-a-date kind of restaurant, dressed in relatively classier clothes -- when Claire spotted Molly and her husband. She practically pushed Brad into a bodega and kept shouldering him until the back of the store, eyes unblinkingly on the front door. It was hard hiding Brad anywhere -- bull in a china shop doesn’t even begin to describe it -- but he did duck his head behind a shelf. For her. She spied on the confused Molly, on the arm of her curious husband. But when she concluded her eyes were tricking her, Molly shrugged, laughed at something her husband had said, and kissed him before leaving. 

In that moment, Claire felt… conflicted. It must be nice to just kiss the man who adores you, in a crowd of people, not to care about what they think or who will catch it on camera, post it all over the internet, for scandal or not. 

(Once, even Christina, with whom Claire didn’t particularly have a close relationship, cornered her near the front door.

“Hey, Claire?” Even in a nearly empty lobby, with strangers neither of them knew, Christina had still lowered her voice. Unaware of her presence prior to her voice close to her ear, Claire startled. Christina didn’t seem to notice. “Can I ask you a question?”

Claire had promised to meet Brad by the ferry, but she felt compelled to answer Christina’s question. She put a hand on her arm.

“Of course, is everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Christian laughed a little. Like normal. She rolled her eyes at herself. “Sorry for that weird set up. Yeah, no, I was just wondering, if you and Brad…?”

Claire’s heart lodged into her throat, a weird and terrifying feeling. She and Brad hadn’t even spent the night together yet, at that point only making out after a split-second-decision, after one-too-many beers. She’d wondered how obvious it must have been for Christina to even mention it.

“Me and Brad, what?” The look Christina gave her made her cough, but somehow, she mangled it into a laugh. “Are we, what? Dating?” A weak laugh again. “No, of course not, Brad and I are just really good friends.”

Before, that would have been true, and her face and ears wouldn’t have been burning, but now...?

“ ‘cause it’s totally cool if you guys are,” Christina added like she forgot to mention it before. “I’ve just been noticing how he looks at you, and thought--”

“Brad looks at everyone that way.” Claire didn’t sound too convinced herself. 

Christina, trying not to make the situation uncomfortable surged, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, totally, he does, yeah.” She’d paused, looking down her shoes, and Claire’s heart thundered. “Yeah, no, I just thought… well, I mean, either way, you guys are great together.”

Claire just smiled and wished her a good night.)

Yeah, things with Brad are great. They’ve easily fallen into this routine of duality, capable co-workers by day and domestic lovers by night. But Brad’s been acting a little… bolder lately. A little… carelessly. She doesn’t know if it’s the weather or upcoming holiday break, but every time she turns around, he’s there, with his jokes and his insights and his stupid handsome grins. 

Hot and bothered is usually a good thing, but for Claire, in the test kitchen, with an audience of everyone who’s opinions she actually cares about, it means anxiety sweats.

“Claire!”

“Yeah.”

“Take a break.” 

There’s something about the way Brad commands her in the kitchen that doesn’t sound so commanding. She notices that he’s like that with everyone else too. Everyone knows his intent when it comes to his bossiness - he wants everyone to have a fun time, to keep their sanity. It was endearing.

This time, there was an edge to it. Something a little darker. 

“Your neck must be killin’ ya.”

She glances at him without moving. She’s been bent over these sugar cookies for the better part of an hour, unrelenting and furrow-browed. He has a glass of eggnog. He bounces his eyebrows at her, and she bites back a smile. 

He, however, eases into one of those smiles, the kind he gives her in the middle of a movie or in the middle of preparing dinner or in the middle of a Starbucks line that tells her he has more… pressing matters he needs to attend to, with her.

“Brad,” she hisses, taking the drink and sipping it tentatively. He bounces his eyebrows again. She hums at the taste. “What’s in this?”

“Just a little-a-this, a little-a-that, m’lady.” He tips his head, holding the lip of his beanie. How could she not laugh, even though she was sure Chris had bionic hearing. “You look tense.”

“I think that’s my default setting,” she deadpans. He grins, and she laughs. “I just want them to be perf--”

Brad towers behind her, and his hands are working into her shoulders. He’s trying to kill her, she thinks, as she becomes more tense, and he continues to work into the knots in her muscles. Everyone in the kitchen gives each other unsolicited massages from time to time, a friendly reminder of support and love -- but Brad’s hands? They were sinful. Brad? The devil himself.

“Brad, I’m fine.” Unconvincing, sure, but Brad canhear the stress lacing her tone. He releases her. “Shouldn’t you be working on your gift?”

“Mango kombucha, baby,” he snaps his fingers into finger guns behind her, at his fermentation station. “Does the work all by itself. Priya’s gonna love it.”

“I hope Alex likes his gift.”

“Delany’s gonna love it.” Brad scoffs. There’s the dark tone again “It’s literally the guy’s face, for cryin’ out loud.”

Claire looks at the sugar cookies, nearly identical portraits of a smiling Alex Delany, taken from his Instagram, and still considers, maybe, she screwed up his eyebrows. She’s been working on these Secret Santa cookies for three days, and she’s scrapped a dozen just because she was convinced she didn’t get the color of his hair just right. She’d noticed Brad’s attitude about it. It was… cute, that he was a little jealous she was staring at Alex’sInstagram for hours. One night, when he’d been over, she was zooming in on Alex’s one curl, and Brad nearly threw her phone across the room… only to smother her in kisses and attention.

“Maybe.” Very briefly, she puts her hand over his. She looks at the cookies again. “You think I should--”

“Freezer break,” he announces, clapping his hands together loudly. She notices Andy startle but not turn around. 

It’s been a thing of his lately. Just to have a moment alone, she thinks. One another, she had Chris spy on him, to see what he’s doing in there when he’s gone for, like, ten minutes. Chris reported he’s just poking around, examining what’s in the freezer. He used to organize the freezer, so that made sense, but it’s not the controlling type that he may “check” Gaby’s hard work. She never asked him, allowing him this weirdly intimate moment for him to be alone with his thoughts.

“You too, c’mon.”

Now, that startles her. Alone? In the freezer? Which has a window? She might need it because her body is burning at the thought.

“Brad, no, I--”

“Up, up, up,” he shushes her, waving his hands in front of her excuses. “Freezer break time.”

He shuffles her into the freezer like a child. He assures anyone who looks their way that Half-Sour Saffitz needs a pep talk in the walk-in. Something, however, was off. Brad’s weird, yes, but he was acting… weirder.

“Brad, I shouldn’t--”

“Claire, I needa talk to you about somethin’.”

Like a doe, Claire blinks sightlessly. Her brain runs through a million different scenarios. He’s going to break things off with her. He’s bored of her. He’s found someone else. He’s moving away. He’s been offered another job. He’s got a TV show in freakin’ Alaska, and she’ll never see his goofy grinning face ever again.

She steels herself, not against the cold but against his confession, knowing she’ll have to pretend that everything is okay and normal for the rest of the day.

“Okay.”

“Listen, I… um, well, I...” He frowns, staring into space, trying to collect his thoughts. Usually, she’s more patient, but her defenses are up, locked and loaded.

“What is it, Brad?”

He glances at her, getting a little defensive himself, but his face softens when he looks at her. Her face is scrunched in a mad way, she knows, but if he wants to break up, he shouldn’t be looking like he wants to kiss her and tell her…

“Claire, wait, don’t gimme that look.” His chuckle is weak as he takes her hands. “Nothing’s wrong! In fact, things are really good for you and me.”

“Okay…” She huffs. “So what’s with the freezer?”

“It’s not ideal, but I can’t w--” He takes off his hat, even though that’s the dumbest idea in this freezer. “Claire, I love you, and I don’t wanna keep this a secret anymore--”

Claire’s brain stalls, but he’s still rambling.

“--and I know you wanted to keep us a secret ‘cause you felt insecure about tellin’ the rest of the guys, and I get that, I do. You’re a private person, and I respect that. But I’m a heart-on-the-sleeve kinda guy, Claire. I want everyone to know--”

“I love you too.”

She searches his face. Did he say it off the cuff or did he mean it? Because she meant it, wholly, and it took him putting it out in the open, in the frosted area of the walk-in freezer, for her to come to her senses. Of course she loved him-- how else would she describe it?

“I love you, too,” he echoed, taking her face into his hands. “I love you, too,” he keeps saying.

She tiptoed to meet his kiss, grabbing his apron to pull him closer. They'd obviously kissed in the vicinity of the others before, but right in this moment, Claire didn’t really care. A hand creeps up to pull his head closer to her, and he slips a hand around her back to press her onto him.

“I love you, too,” she whispers again, a grin wide and excited spreading on her face. “I love you, too.”

“I love you guys too!”

When Claire imagined the moment their friends finding out about them, dread suffocated her. She’d feel the anxiety creep into her throat and choke her. She would actually spend many nights waking from nightmares, and Brad would pull her into a bear hug to soothe her. 

God, how could have been so naive to think she didn’t love him.

But now, as Gaby’s innocent addition to their intimate moment alerts them to everyone peeking into the walk-in with happy, proud, and knowing grins, she’s shaking, but only because of the cold. She looks up at Brad and laughs, nearly tearful, and he knows it’s not out of fear but rather, relief.

“It’s about goddamn time,” Molly scoffs.

All the chefs crowd into the freezer for a big and obnoxiously ridiculous group hug, and Claire laughs because she has never felt more surrounded by love.

(Somewhere, in the actual kitchen, they all hear a bewildered Delany. 

“Dude, this is my face!”)


End file.
